


Meet Me Outside

by keep_me_alone



Series: Batfamily Ficlets [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Bat Daddy, Bat Family, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Family Issues, Hamilton References, Heavy Angst, Humor, Snark, Underage Drinking, bat dad, but if you consider Jason keeps like trying to kill him lmao, fair warning Tim doesn't look so good in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 22:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_me_alone/pseuds/keep_me_alone
Summary: Bruce has a fundraising party. All of his sons show up, including a Post Death Jason. There's a bit of banter, Bruce tries to be a good dad and things just generally go to shit. Enjoy!





	Meet Me Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Anyways I hope this hurts. As always lemme know what you think

                Damian Wayne was very pleased with himself. He had once again convinced his guardian to let him attend a Wayne Party, which meant getting to stay up well past his usual eight o’clock bedtime. He did patrol on weekends, but the rest of the time his father insisted he maintain a “normal” sleep schedule. It was a grating inconsistency.  But tonight, he could stay up as long as he liked, and he fully intended to use that time filling himself up with tasty hors d'oeuvres that Alfred normally wouldn’t let him near. Or maybe he could pilfer some champagne, he’d even take coffee really. Damian didn’t particularly care, beyond the fact that none of it was allowed, which meant he wanted as much as possible.

The small band his father had hired began playing something light, playful almost. Damian looked up at the man beside him briefly, whether looking for a cue or some small reassurance, it wasn’t clear. He descended the stairs beside his father to polite, but enthusiastic, applause. Damian glanced over the crowd with a critical eye. Many of Bruce’s important business contacts were present, as were notable donors and, his mouth twisted with distaste, their children. So that was why father had allowed him to come. He should’ve known it was too good to be true.

                They reached the floor. Damian was reluctantly introduced to several children. They were old enough that they didn’t look _sticky,_ but too young to make engaging conversation. He needed to be rid of them immediately.

                “Have fun,” Bruce called after him, smirking. Damian glared back. Even more irritated when he heard a woman, practically hanging on Bruce’s arm, giggle something about how ‘precious’ he was. It comforted him to know that he could kill literally any of the people in this room, aside from his father. It also pleased him that Bruce would be quite irritated with this thought. Yes, he was a child, but he was also an assassin. Why did everyone forget that?

**

When Tim and Dick arrived to Bruce’s party several hours later, many of the children had gone. Damian, who had gotten tired of them very quickly, had climbed one of the mansion’s tall pillars to hide. Tim spotted him almost immediately, and pointed him out to Dick.

                “I’m pretty sure Bruce would’ve killed me if _I’d_ done that at one of his parties. How did he get up there without him seeing?” Tim muttered, glaring up at the small boy.

                “How the fuck did he even get Bruce to let him stay _up this late?_ ” Dick asked incredulously. “He’s like six. I wasn’t allowed to go to parties until I was like fourteen.” He was indignant, “And _I_ was much better behaved.”

                “Snot,” agreed Tim.

                “Who?” Asked a warm, male voice behind them. Tim turned guiltily, Dick less so. “Thanks for coming boys. How are you Dick?” Dick shrugged, half smiling.

                “It hasn’t been _that_ long, B.”

                “What can I say? I miss having you around the house.” Bruce clapped Dick’s shoulder. He scanned the room behind them, still curious, and scowled when he found Damian.

                “How…?” Dick snickered. “Excuse me,” Bruce said, leaving them to approach Damian’s hiding place. The boys watched in amusement as Bruce tried to coax Damian down without causing a fuss. Although they couldn’t hear across the room, it was clear they were having some kind of argument, and pretending not to. Someone jostled Tim’s elbow, and when he looked back Damian was peering over the edge of his perch at Bruce. Dick laughed as the small boy slipped off the edge, and was easily caught by his father, who carried him back to his other sons. Someone in the crowd crooned about what an adorable pair they were. Others, presumably led by Viki Vale, were snapping pictures.

                Somehow, Damian still managed to sound aloof with his face half buried in Bruce’s shirt.

                “Grayson, Drake.” His voice was muffled and sleepy.

                “Were you… napping up there?” Dick asked. Damian sniffed haughtily.

                “I was merely waiting.”

                “For what?”

                “It isn’t your concern.” Tim rolled his eyes. Typical Damian nonsense, dropping hints without actually saying anything.

                “Damian’s going to bed now.” Bruce told them. “I’ll be back shortly. I want to make sure he _actually gets there_.” This last clearly directed to Damian. Damian huffed, wiggling to get comfortable. Guests and staff alike were focused on the departure of the pair, a few still taking pictures. Unnoticed, a drunk teenager walked in through the gardens, as casually as if he owned the place himself.

               About a half hour later, when Bruce had returned and once again immersed himself with the crowds, Jason made his way over. He stumbled slightly, but somehow managed not to knock anything over. Bruce saw him coming, tried unsuccessfully to extricate himself from his guests before Jason made a mess of things.

               "Hey daddy," he said, grinning. He clicked his tongue and winked.

               "Jason-," Bruce’s tone was warning. _Too late._

               "Oh wait," Jason gave the woman on Bruce’s arm a once over, "that's your line, isn't it?" The woman blushed, muttering something Jason was entirely uninterested in hearing, and left abruptly. Jason grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. He drank half in a single swallow.

               "You didn't invite me to the party, Bruce," he said evenly.

               "I don't know where you're living," Bruce replied. "I asked Selina to pass you a message, but-," Again Jason tuned him out.  He put his arm around a young man standing near them and pulled him over, literally dragging him into the conversation.

               "Do you know why daddy didn't invite me to his little party? I think it's because he doesn't love me anymore." He said theatrically.

               "Excuse us," Bruce said to the man. "Son-,"

               "Don't call me son," snapped Jason. He released the man who immediately scurried away.

               "Can I have a word?" They were starting to attract attention. Tim and Dick, had seen and were cutting through the crowd toward them. Jason drained the rest of his champagne, casually tossing the crystal to the floor where it shattered.

               "Hello Dick, Replacement," Tim flushed brightly, pushing towards him. Dick grabbed Tim, who shook him off.

               "You aren't wanted," Tim said, quiet but fierce.

               "Well that's clear," Jason said sarcastically, and laughed. "That's why daddy dearest adopted you, isn't it?" People were openly staring now.

               "Son," said Bruce tersely.

               "I'm not your son," said Jason, not taking his eyes off Tim.

               Tim was a blur, his punch landing squarely on Jason's nose. His momentum took them both to the floor, Jason's blood spraying. Party guests moved quickly out of the way, gasps and small screams clearly audible over the rustling of fabric.

               Jason was howling with laughter, just laying on the floor, not fighting back at all. Tim hit him in the face again, snapping his head sideways. Then Dick and Bruce had waded in. Dick caught Tim's wrist mid swing and twisted it up behind him. He pulled Tim roughly to his feet, speaking quickly and quietly in his ear. Bruce reached for Jason who shoved him off. He stood, white shirt soaked in blood.

               "You don't deserve him," Tim hissed. The hall was silent. Jason's jaw worked a moment, liquid pooling in his mouth. He spat blood at Tim's shoes.

               "Outside!" Bruce growled, Batman leaking into his voice. The crowd parted for him, suddenly bursting into whispers, small sounds of movement, concern, excitement. Jason waited a moment, grinned wolfishly, deliberately, at Tim, and then followed Bruce out. 

               Bruce was leaning against a marble ledge, his shoulders curled. If Jason noticed the fatigue in his posture, he said nothing of it.

               "This is unacceptable." Bruce straightened up. "Causing a scene like this." Jason's nose was still bleeding, blood dripping from his chin.

               "Don't know what you thought would happen, dad," the venom in his last word was apparent. His voice was beginning to climb. "Did you just expect me to come back from that?" He was almost shouting. "That I could forget you'd left me for dead? That you let the man responsible walk free? That you immediately adopted a replacement? One who could be everything I wasn't.  Did you think I'd just forgive you like nothing happened?"

               "I don't deserve your forgiveness," Bruce said softly, making steady eye contact with him. “I’m not asking for it.”

               "Good. Because you _don’t_ deserve it," Jason snapped. He searched for a trace of pain on Bruce's stoic face, and bitterly, found none.

               "You think I don’t regret all of this? If I had known. If I had even suspected... But I _can’t_ _kill_. Not even for you, son. It would be too easy to lose myself like that. And I can’t afford that. Gotham can’t afford that." Silence stretched between them. Jason's chest was heaving.

               "I am not your son." He ground out, voice rough. "My father is dead." A moment passed. Another. Bruce felt numb. He wished, abstractedly, for a drink.

               "Go home, Jason." He said softly.

               "You couldn't pay me to stay." Jason replied evenly. The words hung heavily in the air. Bruce didn't watch him go. He was looking distantly at the bloody smears his son had left. His face was blank, emotionless. It was the face of a man who had done his best, and found that it was not enough. Beaten by himself, his own inadequacy, and all that he had failed to do.


End file.
